


and red roses for your best friend over there

by orphan_account



Series: a crown of flowers and redamancies [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alongside Bokuto, Canon Compliant, Except they're better at it than Kuroo is, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fukuroudani, Jealousy, M/M, Nekoma, POV Akaashi Keiji, The Akaken Friendship makes a return, There are memes, Third Gym (Haikyuu!!), Training Camp, Who is also forced into becoming a wingman, and many regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I don’t see why she didn’t just let you pet her dogs, or something equally as cost-efficient,” Akaashi commented, and took a bite from the fifth onigiri Bokuto had shoved into his face.“Kuro probably guilt-tripped her,” Kenma said, still half-seated on Kuroo’s lap. “He’s gotten many free pies that way.”“I don’t have enough money to keep up with your demands, Kenma.”“Ehh . . .”“I’m literally pissing people off to get pies for you,” Kuroo jostled Kenma, who slid off the middle blocker’s lap slightly. He was immediately re-adjusted. “What more do you want from me?”Akaashi’s eyes squinted at them infinitesimally, paying no heed to Bokuto as he picked a grain of rice off the corner of Akaashi’s mouth.alternatively: akaashi is very done with kuroken’s emotional constipation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so people actually seemed to like that first fic i wrote, and i’m here crying and going ??? what is this?? so against my better judgement, i didn’t take it down, and instead wrote a continuation because my life is a mess and i didn’t feel like doing that thing called studying anyway. 
> 
> thank you to anyone who liked, or even managed to read through my previous fic (and sorry to anyone who commented and got a reply like five days later because i was too busy screaming and hiding my face in shame). if you haven’t read ‘pink roses for the couple at the back’, don’t worry overmuch; i don’t believe there’s anything in this fic that you’ll need to have read the previous one for, but it would be greatly appreciated if you could take the time to read that one too. this will be a rather lengthy one in comparison (with plenty of bokuaka and various other hinted pairings, may i add), but i’m hoping you’ll bear with me. again, kudos and comments are always welcomed, so please enjoy.

Akaashi had always felt that, while he wasn’t particularly terrible when it came to interacting with other humans, he had few friends.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t consider his teammates or classmates friends, because he got along reasonably well with most of them, and they were certainly more than mere acquaintances. There were even a few members of other clubs and classes that seemed to enjoy talking to him, for whatever reason.

He just felt like he didn’t have many . . . _close_ friends.

Aside from most of the aforementioned teammates and classmates, he could likely count all the people he considered _close friends_ on one hand.

There was his boyfriend, Bokuto, of course. A childhood friend by the name of Ayako Kono who had fortunately been placed in Akaashi’s class his first year, Nao Yumeko from the girl’s judo club who occasionally played violin with him, Kozume Kenma from Nekoma’s Volleyball Club, who he thought of as a kindred spirit, in a sense.

And, regrettably, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Sort of.

While Akaashi didn’t often interact with the middle blocker from Nekoma of his own accord, with two of his _close friends_ being mutual friends of his, they were essentially required to spend a large amount of time with one another. The fact that he was also a part of numerous group chats with all three of them, alongside many other people in most cases, didn’t do much to limit Akaashi and Kuroo’s interaction.

Which wasn’t that terrible, really. It was just . . . well.

Where Kenma went, Kuroo was rarely far behind. Conversely, they weren’t any different.

While most people hardly batted an eyelid at their dynamic at this point, Akaashi was privy to knowledge that made said dynamic far more . . . significant.

  
—

  
“Kuro has been gone for some time,” murmured Kenma.

It was spring break, and despite the cool air and gorgeous pink blossoms that cascaded from the branches overhead, Kenma had decided to hole up in Kuroo’s modest house to play his newly acquired game. ‘Because his parents aren’t home and mine are,’ Kenma had justified when he kicked off his shoes at the entrance. Akaashi suspected it was really only because Kuroo had admittedly comfortable furniture.

(Akaashi himself was only there because Bokuto was, and somebody had to be the voice of reason when those two imbeciles were together.)

Seated on the Kuroos’ plush corner couch and propped up by numerous pillows and cushions, Kozume Kenma looked like the definition of comfortable as he played on his PSP. Akaashi shifted slightly from his position, where he was half-buried under the pile of pillows Kenma was lying on, and blinked blearily at him.

“Didn’t he run down to the bakery two blocks away about five minutes ago?”

Kenma didn’t look up from his game as he elaborated, “He likes to make it back before it’s been five minutes.”

“I see,” Akaashi said. “Bokuto-san probably distracted him. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve set fire to something by now.”

“Um . . .”

“Maybe the cherry blossoms,” Akaashi mused, then dropped his head onto his folded arms. “That would be a rather pretty sight.”

“That would be rather worrying.”

“I had Bokuto-san memorise my number anyway,” Akaashi mumbled through his makeshift pillow. “In the event that something goes wrong and they get in trouble, he’ll have somebody contact me. They’ll be fine. Hopefully.”

Kenma dropped his PSP onto a pillow on Akaashi’s lower back, and reclined further into his throne of pillows. He assumed the other setter had managed to clear the level on his game. “Somehow that’s both comforting and not at the same time.”

“They’re just getting snacks, Kozume-san.”

Kenma only yawned at him.

  
—

  
Kozume Kenma, Akaashi knew, was similar to himself in the sense that he had few friends that he was truly, fully comfortable around.

Obviously, one of them was Kuroo, who had the honour of being Kenma’s first real friend, and had been so since childhood. And while the way they interacted wasn’t so different from how any other pair of best friends interacted, Akaashi could tell that the sheer amount of affection and trust instilled in their relationship after so many years together set them aside from a mere platonic friendship.

  
—

  
Bokuto and Kuroo returned exactly three minutes later, bags of pastries (and what seemed to be a box or two of onigiri) gathered in their arms. Akaashi turned his head to look at them, eyes still drooping in drowsiness.

“I have your apple pie, Kenma!” Kuroo sang as he burst into the room, Bokuto not far behind. He set down his load of bags, before darting to the side of the couch where Kenma sat. “Get up! You haven’t eaten anything, have you?”

Kenma grumbled and leaned away from Kuroo, consequently toppling over and landing on Akaashi’s back with a soft _oof_.

“Kenma!”

Meanwhile, Bokuto had made his way over to Akaashi’s side of the couch, and produced a box of onigiri, confirming Akaashi’s suspicions.

“I got some of that onigiri you like, Akaashi!” Bokuto said, animatedly waving the box around.

“Ah, thank you Bokuto-san,” Akaashi lifted his head so he could peck Bokuto on the cheek. “What's in it?”

“Salted salmon!”

“Kenma!” Kuroo barked again. “You’re having an onigiri before you even come anywhere near your damned apple pie!”

“Ugh.”

Kuroo strided over to where Bokuto had dropped his bags, and rummaged through one of them to pull out another box of onigiri (so there were two after all, Akaashi thought).

“Stop bothering Kenma, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said around a mouthful of rice, then internally cursed himself when Kenma looked over at him at the use of his first name. He’d insisted on referring to him in the formal way he did with everybody except for his own childhood friend, but he found himself slipping up every now and then, especially if Kuroo was around. Kenma seemed to like making it into a game.

“Okay wow,” Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Akaashi and gestured at the arrangement that the setters had taken to— Akaashi lying on his stomach, head twisted around to look at Kuroo, and Kenma lying in a loose fetal position on the mess of pillows that smothered Akaashi’s legs, head propped on several cushions stacked on the taller setter’s back. “Kenma decides to sit on you for half an hour and you think you’re his mother now? I can’t stand for this. Bokuto, tell your boyfriend to back off.”

“You’re really the only one who wants that role, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi retorted before Bokuto could say anything. “Aside from Kozume-san’s biological mother, maybe.”

“Literally fuck off, Akaashi.”

“I’m hungry,” Kenma mumbled. “Where’s the pie?”

“You’re eating this fucking onigiri first, you hear me?”

“Fine . . .”

Kuroo jumped onto the couch beside Kenma, eliciting a small noise of protest from Akaashi when he felt half of the middle blocker’s weight pressing down on his calves. Kuroo pulled Kenma up and half onto his own lap as he passed him an onigiri.

Then Kuroo clapped and beamed, drawing the attention of the other three pairs of eyes to himself.

“Oh!” Bokuto brightened, seeming to catch on to what Kuroo was trying to convey. “Are we telling them what happened with the chick with the dogs?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Kuroo was absent-mindedly rubbing circles into Kenma’s shoulder as he grinned, Akaashi noticed.

  
—

  
The only problem was, neither of them appeared to realise this for themselves.

  
—

  
“Then Kuroo was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ and she got all mad and went, ‘Aren’t you hitting on me?’” Bokuto waved his hands around, cackling. Akaashi snorted. “And I was like, ‘I’m gay.’”

“With the straightest face,” Kuroo added.

“And then Kuroo told her we just really liked her dogs, but she was looking at us all weird and went, ‘Holy shit I’m so sorry.” and then she bought us cake,” Bokuto beamed, clapping his hands together delightedly. Like an easily pleased child, Akaashi thought, unable to stop the slight smile curling at the corner of his lips as he watched him.

_Apparently_ , while Bokuto and Kuroo had been out getting their food, they’d spotted a girl walking three dogs (Kuroo made sure to enunciate that they were very cute, very fluffy, very good dogs) near the bakery. Predictably, when they began cooing at them in their direction, the girl who had been walking the trio of dogs thought they were talking to her. Which somehow got them free cake, Akaashi mused, so perhaps the misunderstanding wasn’t so troublesome.

“Did you at least apologise for the misunderstanding?” Akaashi asked them.

“Of course we did,” Kuroo huffed. “We apologised and then she felt bad and that’s why she bought us cake in the first place. Have some faith in us, Akaashi.”

“I don’t see why she didn’t just let you pet her dogs, or something equally as cost-efficient,” Akaashi commented, and took a bite out of the fifth onigiri Bokuto had shoved into his face.

“Kuro probably guilt-tripped her,” Kenma said, still half-seated on Kuroo’s lap. “He’s gotten many free pies that way.”

“I don’t have enough money to keep up with your demands, Kenma.”

“Ehh . . .”

“I’m literally pissing people off to get pies for you,” Kuroo jostled Kenma slightly, who slid off the middle blocker’s lap slightly. He was immediately re-adjusted. “What more do you want from me?”

Akaashi’s eyes squinted at them infinitesimally, paying no heed to Bokuto as he picked a grain of rice off the corner of Akaashi’s mouth.

  
—

  
Spring break passed quickly, mostly dedicated to homework, violin, and frequent texts and calls with Bokuto.

Akaashi commenced his second year with little commotion. He found that he had to invest more time in studying than the year before (sometimes he regretted allowing himself to be placed in class 6), but otherwise, he breezed through the workload and still had enough time to keep up with violin sessions with Nao, as well as Bokuto’s extra late night practice sessions.

The volleyball club had a number of applicants that year, including a fairly skilled middle blocker named Onaga, who boasted a height of over 190cm. Akaashi made a note to involve him into more of their matches, since they needed the height. Otherwise, the first-years were rather good, and Akaashi rather looked forward to playing with them for the next two years, and he made sure to tell them as much.

Both Bokuto and Akaashi received slightly awed stares from most of the new members when they introduced themselves, likely because Bokuto was one of the Top 5 aces in the country, and himself because he’d been made vice-captain in his second year, Akaashi thought.

  
(“They were all checking you out,” Bokuto whined later, after he had first made the new applicants run some drills. Komi and Washio had been tasked with helping the first-years while the captain and vice-captain watched on. “Have they never seen a pretty guy before? Geez.”

The two other third-years that stood beside them, Sarukui and Konoha, snickered at them when Akaashi only blinked at Bokuto.)

  
—

  
Nekoma had gone to Miyagi for a day, talking about how there was a school there with a volleyball club that had been their rival for years. Karasuno High School, Akaashi thought they’d said.

Kuroo seemed rather pleased when showed up at Fukurodani’s practice session with Kenma the next day.

“Letting the team have a break after going all the way to Miyagi yesterday,” he’d explained when Akaashi asked why they weren’t at practice. “And I need to tell Bo how Karasuno is.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow at this, but gave them a nod nonetheless. “After practice is finished. Please don’t distract Bokuto-san.”

Kuroo complied at least, to some extent. He cheered everytime Bokuto pulled off a good play, but that only seemed to put him in a good mood, so Akaashi didn’t do anything to stop him. Kenma only tapped away at his phone.

Practice didn’t last long anyway, as half the team was eager to get away before the disaster duo actually managed to interact and blow up the gym or something equally as costly and stupid, and the other half, mostly the first-years, were herded away with muttered, “You don’t want stick around when they get together.”s in their ears. Akaashi thought it was a wise sentiment.

“So,” Kuroo grinned at Bokuto and Akaashi, clapping his hands delightedly. “Karasuno High School.”

“How was it? How were they?” Bokuto asked enthusiastically, looking as if he were seconds away from grabbing Kuroo by the shoulders and violently shaking him.

“Oh man, they’re intense,” Kuroo grasped Bokuto by the shoulders instead. “They have these two first years with an insane quick. Their offense is pretty good in general, but these two first-years? Incredible. Apparently they managed to sync up like the first time they ever played with each other.”

Bokuto whistled lowly, and Akaashi didn’t blame him. “Holy shit.”

“You can tell their setter’s a fucking genius, but you would never expect a quick like that from them, because the spiker is tiny,” Kuroo continued. “But man, that shrimp can jump. I’d love to play against them again.”

“Karasuno High School,” Akaashi murmured, already entering the name into his phone. He tuned out Kuroo’s rambling as he skimmed through the search results, frowning when he found little information about their team, aside from the member list from the year before, and a few articles about a ‘Kageyama Tobio’. “Huh.”

“The spiker’s name is Hinata Shouyou,” Kenma said when he saw what Akaashi was doing. “He’s sort of a newbie.”

“Ah yes, the little shrimp,” the corner of Kuroo’s lips turned up at the comment, and he slung an arm around Kenma’s shoulders, shaking him a little. “Who actually managed to get Kenma pumped up a little for once in his life.”

“Stop telling people that.”

“Well, it’s true!”

“He managed to get Kenma pumped up?” Bokuto spluttered, eyebrows expressing his astonishment. “I have to meet this guy.”

“After a five minute conversation too,” Kuroo said, still shaking Kenma by the shoulders a little.

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

Akaashi could see the bright look in Kenma’s eyes though, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by this Hinata Shouyou. He supposed anybody would, really, with Kenma’s usual introverted nature.

But, as his eyes flickered to Kuroo’s face, Akaashi thought he could hear a hint of bitterness in the middle blocker’s tone.

  
—

  
It wasn’t long until Akaashi’s second Interhigh arrived, and as expected, Fukurodani breezed through most of their games.

Nekoma had vastly improved since the previous year, and proved it in their own games with their solid blocks and receives. Akaashi could only appraise Kenma for the development in his techniques, and it even made himself feel like he was falling behind just a little bit.

(He found himself staying with Bokuto just a little longer during their late practices.)

Akaashi found it unfortunate however, when he heard Nekoma had failed to make it to Nationals yet again, this time being defeated by Itachiyama, and made sure to say so when Kuroo and Kenma joined Bokuto and himself for a celebratory dinner. Bokuto simply gave Kenma a solid pat on the back and pulled Kuroo into a crushing hug, wailing about how he had been looking forward to playing them at Nationals.

“Fucking hell, Bo,” Kuroo coughed out when he was released. “Are you trying to break my spine before we even get play in the Spring High Tournament or something? That’s dirty, bro.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said with a straight face. He rummaged through his bag and produced a pocket knife, making sure to obscure it from the view of the other patrons. He waved it a little in front of Kuroo. “You should have just used the knife.”

“But then I would’ve done all that working out for nothing,” Bokuto yelled immediately, and turned away from Kuroo’s slightly horrified face. He punched a fist into his palm. “I need to prove to Saru that I _can_ crush someone with my bare hands!”

“The knife still would have been more efficient,” Akaashi looked at Bokuto with dead serious eyes, then at Kuroo, who’d seemed to have gathered his bearings.

“Shit,” Kuroo muttered. “I thought you guys were actually serious for a second.”

“They are,” Kenma said, at the same time both Akaashi and Bokuto said, “We are.”

“Stop that! Kenma, we’re leaving before they infect you with their murderous intent.”

“Too late for that, Kuroo-san.”

Kenma simply patted Kuroo on the arm twice, and muttered something in English before taking a sip from his glass of complimentary water.

_“Did you just meme me?”_

“No.”

“You just memed me,” Kuroo said, slightly reverently. “You’ve been spending too much time with Akaashi and Shibayama.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Akaashi said, eyes scanning the pictures of food that adorned the menu.

“I know you’re a fucking memer, Akaashi, don’t try to deny it. I’ve never even seen Kenma meme before today.”

Akaashi only took a sip of his own glass of water, and watched in amusement when half of the other people in the restaurant turned to look at their table at Kuroo’s loud screech and Bokuto’s thunderous laughter.

  
—

  
For the second year in a row, Fukurodani is eliminated right before they could get into the semi-finals, this time by Inarizaki. Kuroo was simply still upset that they hadn’t even made it to Nationals, which lead to the captains of the respective Tokyo teams to drag their setters out to a nearby park so they could cry, and in Bokuto’s case, curse out ‘that damned fox team’. Akaashi got the feeling that they were getting more stares than usual.

“But on the bright side,” Kuroo spoke after he had stopped sniffling. “Ubugawa and Shinzen will be free to hold more practice matches soon.”

Bokuto sat up, face brightening. “And that means . . .”

“Training camp, bro,” Kuroo grinned as Bokuto cheered, getting up from where he had been lying on the grass.

“Hey hey hey!”

Kenma groaned and rolled further away from the two. Akaashi was inclined to do the same.

  
—

  
“Oho?”

Akaashi looked up at Bokuto, who was tapping away on his phone instead of sorting through the club’s paperwork like he was supposed to do. Shirofuku and Suzumeda, who had been forced to suffer with them and seemed to be actually doing their work, looked up at him too.

Suzumeda’s lips turned down, and opened her mouth to say something. Shirofuku beat her to it, lightly whacking Bokuto across the head as she said, “It’s your job to do all this paperwork in the first place, you dolt! Stop looking at your phone!”

Bokuto barely flinched, and waved the older manager away. “Do you remember that school in Miyagi that Nekoma had a practice match with the other time? The one that gave Aoba Johsai a really hard time at the Interhigh qualifiers?”

Shirofuku sat down again and frowned. “Karasuno, wasn’t it? What about them?”

“Kuroo wants to invite them to training camp,” Bokuto flashed his phone at the other three, the definitely-not-unprofessional name of the captains and vice-captains group chat for the volleyball clubs in the Fukurodani Academy Group adorning the top of the screen.

Akaashi turned on his own phone, and sure enough, several notifications from the chat filled the screen with that ridiculous name. He sighed as the other three in the room looked at him. “I don’t see why not. It would be nice to have some practice with a team we’re not so familiar with.”

Bokuto beamed and typed out a reply on his own phone.

‘ _YESS!!! BRING THEM HERE SO WE CAN KICK THEIR ASSES!!!! (งòvó)ง_ ’

Akaashi only caught a glimpse of an, ‘ _AKAASHI SAYS YES TOO!!_ ’ before he turned his phone off again.

“Looks like there’s more last minute planning to do,” Akaashi grumbled, despite the fact that he had been the one to agree.

Suzumeda’s head hit the table.

  
—

  
Fukurodani, alongside the three other teams that conducted their annual training camp with them, was warming up and running their usual drills as they waited for the Karasuno team to arrive.

Akaashi had indulged Bokuto and the rest of the team a little with some spiking drills, before pulling away and dragging a first-year, who had shown a lot of potential as a setter, to replace him while he skimmed through the stack of sheets left on a bench. “Be nice to Shimako-kun,” he’d said, patting his underclassman on the shoulder before throwing him to the wolves.

“Are you looking at the Karasuno documents, Akaashi-san?” Suzumeda asked, watching him flip through the pages curiously.

“Yes,” he replied, then squinted at the words, ‘Incredibly fast quick’ printed on their list of advantages in his own neat handwriting.

“Um,” the first-year manager said nervously, seeing the expression on his face. “You seem frustrated about something. Is there something else we could’ve put on it?”

“Their first-year duo is what everybody seems to be focused on. We don’t seem to know much about their team dynamic aside from them, and a few videos from the Interhigh preliminaries are hardly enough to give us a good idea,” Akaashi clicked his tongue. He looked over at Suzumeda, who looked like she was dying inside. “You don’t need to beat yourself up for it, Suzumeda. There’s not much we could’ve added to it anyway. You and Shirofuku-san did a good job.”

“Aha,” Suzumeda rubbed the back of her neck. “You did most of the work, really, Akaashi-san.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Akaashi said, placing down the stack of paper. He turned to the younger girl and gave her a small smile that he hoped appeared encouraging. “Don’t downplay your efforts.”

“You should listen to yourself more,” he thought he heard her say before he was grabbed from behind.

“Akaashi, toss for me some more!”

“Bokuto-san, please go bother Shimako-kun,” Akaashi grimaced. Suzumeda seemed to laugh at them a little. “I’m going to talk to Kozume-san for a while.”

“But Shimako’s tired already,” Bokuto whined loudly, unable to acknowledge the fearful look the first-year shot their way from behind the captain. Akaashi was tempted to do what Shirofuku did in times like this, and almost whacked him over the head.

“Then do some other drills,” Akaashi pulled Bokuto down to give him a brief kiss, and grasped him by the shoulder. “And let Shimako-kun rest a little, will you?”

Bokuto gave him a slightly dopey smile and nodded vigorously, to which Akaashi couldn’t help but smile at, a hand coming up to hide his lower face. He ignored Suzumeda’s, “ _aww_ ” and Bokuto’s soft, “ _he’s so cute_ ” as he walked across the gym to where Kenma was setting, as Nekoma did their spiking drills.

The doors of the gym flew open just as he reached the side of Nekoma’s court, and a sizeable group of boys, all clad in plain white shirts and black shorts, traipsed into the gym, trailing after what seemed to be their captain, who was walking beside Kuroo. Most of the occupants on the courts continued their drills, making the most of their warm-up time before they began the sets, while some who weren’t doing anything looked over at them in curiosity.

“Where’s Shouyou?” Akaashi could hear Kenma ask, to which he received a, “He had to take a supplementary exam.” from Yamamoto.

Kuroo was talking with Karasuno’s captain, the most professional Akaashi had ever seen him. Kenma’s eyes flickered over to Akaashi, and he took it as a cue to approach the other setter.

“Shouyou isn’t here yet,” was the only thing Kenma said, and Akaashi thought his voice sounded a little forlorn.

“You seem to really like Hinata Shouyou,” he commented, standing beside Kenma as they watched Karasuno sort themselves out. “I’m rather keen to meet him now.”

“He’s nice,” Kenma hummed. “Loud. I’m not sure you’ll like him.”

“Akaashi-san!” the tall first-year from Nekoma yelled, interrupting their moment. He waved at the setters’ direction when they turned to look at him with varying levels of distaste. He barely even flinched at their expressions. “Can you give Kenma-san back? We need him for practice!”

Akaashi didn’t even get to reply before Inuoka and Yamamoto yanked at Haiba's shirt, the former looking half-terrified with wide eyes, and the latter hissing something along the lines of, “Leave them alone, you idiot!”

“Eh? But— Ow! Yaku-san!”

“We’re doing receives now!” Nekoma’s libero declared as Haiba straightened again, rubbing at his sides with a wince. Yaku nodded at Akaashi and Kenma before dragging the cart of volleyballs over to the rest of Nekoma.

“I hope when you say ‘loud’, you didn’t mean ‘Haiba Lev’ loud.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tolerate him if I did.”

“Fair enough.”

  
—

  
After Karasuno had lost their sixth game, Akaashi could already hear some of the other players mutter between themselves about the visiting team’s strength. And without having seen their first-years quick, he had to admit that they seemed rather mediocre.

But then a young blonde woman flung open the door to the gym, and trailing behind her were, presumably, Karasuno’s weird quick duo.

And they quickly established themselves as an extraordinary attacking power.

Kageyama Tobio, the setter, was incredibly proficient in all aspects of the game, proving it as soon as it was his turn to serve. Akaashi couldn’t help but think that the intensity of his focus was both admirable and somewhat terrifying.

Hinata Shouyou, just as tiny as Kuroo had described, and as loud as Kenma had said, could hardly be considered passable in his basic skills.

But their quick was incredible.

Bokuto had skipped back to where the rest of the Fukurodani team were doing their stretches, after talking a little with Ubugawa and Shinzen’s captains, the latter being the first one to lose a set against the Miyagi team. He seemed rather motivated, bouncing around the place and screaming his intent to ‘crush those crows’ to the world.

“Bokuto is way too hyped up about this,” Komi grumbled to Akaashi when he’d managed to escape Bokuto. “Please calm your boyfriend down.”

“He’s just excited by the prospect of a challenge,” Akaashi said in response. He called Bokuto’s name anyway, gesturing for him to come over. Komi somehow disappeared from sight in about three seconds when he saw Bokuto approaching them.

“Yeah?” Bokuto asked, still somewhat giddy.

“Please calm down before we face Ubugawa next. We’ll have a game against Karasuno soon anyway, so just be patient a little longer.”

“‘Kay!”

  
(When it was their turn to play Karasuno again, they’d crushed them like Bokuto had said.)

  
—

  
As expected, Bokuto pulled Akaashi and Kuroo along for an extra practice session before they could retire for the night.

“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get past me, sweetie,” Kuroo said when Akaashi sent a ball towards Bokuto, then promptly slammed it down after the wing-spiker had swung his arm forward. “Take that, you fucking owl.”

“Kindly fuck off, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said, and threw a volleyball at his head as he ducked under the net. Bokuto had collapsed onto his back and was omitting a sound that grew steadily in volume.

“What the hell, Akaashi,” Kuroo stared at him in disbelief after the ball had bounced off his head, flattening his fringe just a little.

“That was for antagonising my boyfriend,” Akaashi justified, then pelted Kuroo with another volleyball.

“Stop that!”

“Look what you’ve done to him,” Akaashi gestured to Bokuto, then met Kuroo’s eyes in a hard stare. They both snorted after a beat of silence, filled with only the sound of Bokuto doing whatever he was doing.

“Wow, you guys are a mess,” a voice sounded at the entrance of the gym.

Kuroo and Akaashi turned to the source of the voice, and spotted Nekoma’s libero at the doorway, their vice-captain standing just a little behind him.

Kuroo waved a hand at them. “Yo.”

“Good evening, Yaku-san, Kai-san.”

“Ever so polite, Akaashi,” Kuroo said snarkily. Akaashi threw another volleyball at him, to the other third-years’ amusement. “Will you stop that?”

“You deserve it,” Yaku said in lieu of Akaashi, and then gestured to the clock above the door. “It’s almost ten. Naoi-sensei told us to get you before lights out. Akaashi, you and Bokuto should probably get going too.”

“Ugh,” Kuroo stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Okay, I’m coming. Where’d Kenma run off to?”

Yaku seemed pleased that Nekoma’s setter had been mentioned. “He’s already asleep in his futon. But he was talking to Karasuno’s Shrimpy earlier, and he didn’t even seem to get shy. I’m so proud.”

The expression on Kai’s face told Akaashi that Yaku had been telling this to everybody he’d come across. The expression on _Kuroo’s_ face however, made Akaashi freeze for a second.

“You’re acting like you’re his mother,” Kuroo laughed after a brief pause, walking towards his fellow third-years, and pulling Akaashi out of his thoughts.

“You’re one to talk,” Akaashi muttered under his breath, then narrowed his eyes at the various volleyballs scattered around the gym, Bokuto’s defeated form on the ground, and Kuroo’s retreating back. He called out after the middle blocker, “Leave me with the mess you helped make, why don’t you?”

“You’re the one who threw those volleyballs at me!” Kuroo yelled over his shoulder, and stepped out of the gym. Yaku and Kai could only give him an apologetic look, before following their captain.

Akaashi sighed, and turned to Bokuto, who had stopped screaming, and had resorted to staring up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling instead.

“Was it just me, or did Kuroo seemed mad about Shrimpy or something?”

“It wasn’t just you,” Akaashi said, standing at Bokuto’s head and peering down at him. Bokuto’s large eyes flickered to Akaashi’s instead, the setter’s form casting a shadow over the wing spikers face, and consequently causing his pupils to dilate.

“You know,” Bokuto gave him a wide smile, and lifted his arms up to Akaashi as if he were asking for a hug. “I really like this view.”

Akaashi only huffed out a laugh, squatting down so he could give his boyfriend a quick kiss. “Help me out with these volleyballs, will you?”

He was sure he had seen Kuroo’s eyes harden a little when ‘Karasuno’s Shrimpy’ had been mentioned, Akaashi thought once again as he gathered volleyballs into his arms. And if Bokuto, the person who knew Kuroo best aside from Kenma, thought something was off too, then there was little doubt about it.

For reasons Akaashi was quite sure he knew of, Kuroo Tetsurou was jealous of Hinata Shouyou.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kuroo: kenma we’re leaving before you start trying to kill me too  
> kenma and akaashi: take a fucking sip babes
> 
> this entire fic is one giant meme tbh, im so sorry. 
> 
> i should also probably explain that akaashi isn’t ~~actually~~ entirely serious about killing kuroo in cold blood, i just went, ‘akaashi probably brings a pocket knife around everywhere in case bokuto gets in trouble and he has to cut him out of a net or break into a house or something’ and uh. that happened.
> 
> anyway, i apologise for leaving this on such a strange sort of cliffhanger, but chapter two will be up within a week, so have no fear. in the meantime, check out ‘pink roses for the couple at the back’ if you haven’t already, and feel free to leave a comment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i pretty much rewatched the entire training camp arc for the sake of canon compliance (and then some more because i have no self-control), i cried for half of it because of akaashi fucking keiji, i’ve had the opening stuck in my head for three days, and i am not okay. 
> 
> (please save me)

The first time Akaashi had met Kozume Kenma, he’d thought, _finally, someone who actually seemed sane_.

Really, it was because Kuroo had dragged Akaashi over to Nekoma’s setter, who had given Kuroo a look that Akaashi himself had often found himself giving to others, then stalked away to find his PSP while Kuroo jabbed a thumb in his direction and introduced him with a smile. But Akaashi supposed that in most circumstances involving Kuroo Tetsurou, walking away was the best decision one could make.

After that initial meeting however, they’d quickly struck up a friendship based off the constant suffering they had to endure in the form of Bokuto Koutarou and Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kenma was quiet and didn’t often talk without prompt, which was fine by Akaashi, who felt like he had too much noise in his life anyway despite his own relatively solemn nature (he supposed that was what drew such loud people like Bokuto and Kuroo to quiet people like Kenma and himself in the first place). So he was rather glad to find that the other setter wasn’t as overbearing, nor did he find himself having to act like a babysitter or a form of impulse control when he was with him.

From the way Kenma clung to him whenever Bokuto and Kuroo were together, Akaashi figured that the feeling was mutual.

He liked to think that he knew Kozume Kenma rather well.

  
—

  
For some reason, each of the four captains of the present Tokyo teams had decided to get up early the next day, so they could run around the school stacking chairs before the managers had to get up and wake up all the other boys.

It was just a little bit concerning.

“What . . . What are they doing?” Karasuno’s captain asked, tone dubious as he stopped beside where Akaashi was standing with Nekoma’s vice-captain and libero outside. All three of them were scrolling through their phones, searching through the several hundred messages the captains had left the previous night in their captains’ group chat. All three of them also looked very tired and more dead inside than usual.

“We have no idea,” Kai said, looking up at Shinzen’s captain, whose hair was wilder than usual, as he ran past screaming with three chairs cradled in his arms. The vice-captain waved his phone a little in Sawamura’s direction. “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“It’s a competition of some sort, by the looks of it,” Akaashi added, then squinted at the time stamps beside the various messages from each of the captains, all depicting the taste of victory and what they would make everybody else do when they won their ridiculous challenge. Akaashi sighed, tilting his head back and letting his eyes flutter shut momentarily. “Apparently established and agreed upon at around three in the morning.”

Sawamura glanced down at his own phone, looking alarmed. “But it’s barely 5:30?”

Akaashi and Kai shrugged, while Yaku’s face darkened. “It’s fine. It’s not like Kuroo cut everyone else’s sleep short when he let Bokuto into our sleeping quarters at five in the morning. Everything’s fine.”

The libero returned to glowering at his phone and scrolling furiously, as Sawamura took a step back. “Uh—”

“Don’t worry about it, Sawamura,” Akaashi said as pleasantly as he could through the bags under his eyes and dark expression, attempting to reassure the last remaining captain who still retained his sanity. He didn’t look very reassured, as was expected. “We’ll make sure to take care of it. Try to get your team to go back to sleep, if you can. Shinzen and Ubugawa’s vice-captains are doing the same, while we deal with this.”

A loud crash sounded not far from behind Akaashi, followed by a few choice expletives that really shouldn’t have been yelled at a school at five in the morning. Akaashi held himself back from expressing a wince, as Sawamura’s eyes drifted from his own, to a point located behind him. He nodded apprehensively, turning away as he muttered, “I’ll go do that.”

The captain hurried away, leaving Akaashi with Yaku and Kai, both still intently searching through their phones.

There was a stretch of silence as all three of them resumed their activities, interspersed with the loud voices of the four Tokyo captains, before Akaashi spoke, “They want to see who can make the highest chair tower because Kuroo-san made fun of Bokuto-san’s height.”

“What?”

Akaashi didn’t bother looking up at Yaku’s incredulous tone, still skimming through the texts. “Daiki-san got angry because he’s undoubtedly shorter than the rest of them, and Kuroo-san taunted him by saying that he would still be taller than Daiki-san even if he stood on a chair. I suppose the rest is self-explanatory.”

Yaku let out a groan and shoved his phone into his pocket. “I’ll deal with this when it’s actually a reasonable hour of the day.”

Akaashi suspected that Kai would follow the libero, but was mildly surprised when he told Yaku to go ahead, and instead offered to help the setter sort things out. Yaku gave them a sympathetic look before shuffling back to Nekoma’s sleeping quarters, leaving the two alone.

“I didn’t specify my intentions,” Akaashi said as soon as Yaku was out of earshot. He turned his phone off and pocketed it, keeping his hands in his pockets as he turned to Kai. “I rather think their pointless competition is very entertaining. I never said anything about stopping it.”

His words were followed by a loud, “Damnit!” from Bokuto as he stumbled over Kuroo’s outstretched foot and almost dropped his stack of chairs.

“Yeah,” the other vice-captain said simply, choosing to ignore the timing and instead mirroring Akaashi’s actions. “I know.”

“Then,” Akaashi tilted his head at him inquisitively, eyes steady on Kai’s own. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

Kai opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again as Kuroo darted past them, cackling. The third-year’s eyes followed the captain’s form for a second, before looking back at Akaashi, knowing he had caught the moment of hesitation.

“I see,” Akaashi said. He stood closer to the other vice-captain, facing towards the mayhem and putting on an air of casualty, gesturing for Kai to do the same. “What about him?”

Kai seemed to shift slightly, appearing mildly uncomfortable as he asked, “You saw Kuroo’s face yesterday, right? When he— when Yaku mentioned Karasuno’s #10?”

Akaashi nodded wordlessly, prompting him to continue.

“I think . . . Ah,” Kai rubbed at the back of his neck, eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “Has Kuroo said anything that might, uh—”

“Indicate that he’s jealous of Karasuno’s #10?” Akaashi supplied.

“Yeah,” Kai’s hand dropped to his side again, looking relieved that Akaashi got the message. “I guess you got the same feeling, then.”

“It’s more than likely that he is, considering how he’s been acting,” Akaashi said, humming a little as he mulled it over. So even Kuroo’s vice-captain thought something was strange about the situation.

“He’s been off since Golden Week at Karasuno,” Kai mumbled, growing quieter as Kuroo ran by again. “It’s not throwing the team off or anything, but he just seems more aggravated these days.”

“And I suppose you want me to help you fix that?”

The third-year looked a little embarrassed as he nodded. “And Bokuto, I guess.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow at the unusual choice, and Kai elaborated.

“The only people who really spend a lot of time with both him and Kenma aside from the team are you two,” he said, shuffling his feet a little nervously. “Yaku just seems really happy that Kenma’s actually socialising, so I don’t think I could really ask him to do anything.”

“And the rest of the team are hardly great choices to help them figure things out,” Akaashi finished for him.

“Well,” Kai shrugged a little. “Sort of. I think some of them know something’s off, but they’re not really close enough to Kuroo or Kenma to be able to do much.”

“I see,” Akaashi said, then furrowed his brows slightly. “But why Bokuto-san? Most wouldn’t even consider enlisting him for any sort of help.”

“He’s close to Kuroo,” Kai said. Then added after a moment, “And he’s smarter than he looks.”

Akaashi could tell that the second part had only been tacked on for the sake of appeasing the setter, but he couldn’t deny that there was truth behind the statement. Nekoma’s vice-captain wasn’t unobservant either, and had likely noticed the unconventional sort of intelligence that Bokuto possessed, so Akaashi supposed that he could consider himself appeased. He hummed again. “So what exactly do you want us to do? Play matchmaker?”

Kai huffed out a laugh, “Wasn’t that what you were planning to do anyway?”

“Of course not, Kai-san.”

  
—

  
In the short amount of time he had known Kenma, Akaashi thought he had never seen him open up to somebody so quickly.

Even with himself, Kenma had taken a while to feel comfortable enough to talk freely with no qualms, and Kuroo had said that Akaashi had gotten the other setter to come out of his shell rather quickly, comparatively. Akaashi had figured it meant that Kuroo himself had taken a lot of time to get Kenma to open up to him, and had felt a little proud at the knowledge.

So he could understand Kuroo’s frustration every time Hinata bounced over to Kenma, and managed to coax more than a few words and a smile from the usually dispassionate setter like it was nothing.

Kenma had taken to spending more time with Hinata too, Akaashi realised after the third time he had decided against going to talk to him while he was engaged in conversation with the bright first-year. And Kuroo had mostly busied himself with enabling Bokuto in whatever he was thinking, which had been really what led to Akaashi seeking Kenma’s companionship in the first place.

He had to admit, he was rather relieved for Kuroo when Karasuno returned to Miyagi that afternoon.

  
—

  
The next week or so passed quickly, interspersed with some individual team practices and a single training camp day, before the teams of the Fukurodani Academy Group and Karasuno were to arrive at Saitama for a week long training camp at Shinzen.

Akaashi had hardly rested during that week, between his vice-captain duties, volleyball practice, homework, and keeping up violin practices, so he had taken the chance to take a nap on his boyfriend’s shoulder as they traversed the short trip to Saitama. That being said, he was hardly the most patient person when he had only just woken up, which lead to the second and third years ushering the first-years out of the bus while he dozed a little longer on Bokuto.

“We have games to win, y’know?” Bokuto spoke softly, slipping an arm around Akaashi’s torso and shaking him a little. “Get uuuup—”

Akaashi groaned and only shuffled closer to Bokuto in petulance.

“You’re too cute for your own good,” Bokuto whined. Akaashi ignored the comment in favour of smashing his face into a broad shoulder.

“There’s something we need to talk about before we go out there,” Akaashi murmured, blinking blearily. “What we’re going to do about Kuroo-san and Kozume-san.”

Akaashi had talked to Bokuto about the conversation he’d had with Nekoma’s vice-captain the same day, after he and several other members of the four present teams had shamed all four of the captains into putting all the chairs back by themselves, as well as helping the managers wash the dishes after dinner. Akaashi had dragged Bokuto away while everybody else had been distracted by broken chairs or plates or something, and had briefly discussed the contents of their conversation with him.

Afterwards, to Akaashi’s chagrin, he was left with little time to properly discuss it further, as he became consumed with his own obligations.

Bokuto hummed, “I think we either tell them they like each other, or just let them do their own thing. Mostly the second option. Because they need to be able to figure things out on their own. Even I don’t know for sure if Kuroo knows what he’s feeling.”

“That’ll take too long,” Akaashi said groggily, head rolling back against his seat. “I don’t disagree though. It’s rather complicated when it comes to Kozume-san too. I say we just give them more of a push.”

He was about to ask what else Bokuto thought they could do, but was cut off by his voice.

“Good enough,” Bokuto smiled, and tugged on Akaashi’s shirt. “Come on, we have to get up and let the coaches lock up now.”

Akaashi groaned again.

  
—

  
Karasuno seemed to mess up more than usual in their games that day. They were trying out new things, Akaashi realised, but he was only glad that it meant that he wouldn’t have to do as many penalties.

As usual, Bokuto managed to find an empty gym for free practice in the evening, and dragged Akaashi over to set for him. Kuroo had brought Haiba along, to Akaashi’s displeasure, in order to work on the first-year’s receives.

Said first-year was eventually worked into a puddle of sweat, pain, and regret, and the two captains simply strided over to the door to see who else they could torment as Haiba collapsed to the ground, groaning.

“Oh my,” Akaashi said monotonously to Haiba. “You poor soul.”

Haiba only whimpered at him.

There was a yell from where Bokuto and Kuroo stood at the door, followed by a response in a voice that definitely didn’t belong to either of the captains, and Akaashi immediately felt sorry for the person who had just happened to walk by.

   
—

  
It turned out to be the tall blond first-year from Karasuno, whom Akaashi had thought looked smart enough to escape being pulled into their intensive practice session.

Akaashi was rather disappointed in the first-year when he had actually allowed himself to be goaded into practicing with them, with relative ease.

And into leaving too, apparently.

“Looks like you stepped on a mine, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi commented, eyes flickering to the tall figure that stepped out of sight. He looked back towards the Nekoma captain, and caught Kuroo’s slight frown before his face smoothed out into a contemplative expression.

Bokuto said something to Kuroo in a taunting voice, but Akaashi only listened passively as Kuroo responded, choosing instead to give the middle blocker a scrutinizing look.

Kuroo had been considering something, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if it was entirely good.

  
—

  
The next day found the five teams taking a break after the managers had declared that the parents of Shinzen had gave them some watermelons, to the players’ delight. Akaashi was finishing his second slice of watermelon, making sure to pay heed to the reminder he’d given to the rest of the Fukurodani team to not eat too much before they started the games again.

His eyes found Kenma, who was nibbling on a smaller slice of watermelon, seated by Hinata and, remarkably, Haiba. He was tempted to say hi to the other setter, having had few chances to do so during the entirety of the camp thus far, but decided not to when he realised he might have to interact with the excitable first-years who were beside him.

Akaashi sighed as the players began filing back into the stuffy environment of the gym, and decided to help Suzumeda and Ubugawa’s manager to stack some of the plates as an excuse to stay out in the cooler air a little longer.

Karasuno’s regular wing spikers passed by him then, followed by Kuroo, who was sporting the contemplative expression he had been wearing the night before. Probably thinking about the same thing he’d been thinking then, too.

Akaashi tapped the front of Kuroo’s calf with his foot, causing the middle blocker to stumble a little and snap out of his daze. The Karasuno players looked back at them, but hurried along when they saw the ominous expression the setter had plastered across his face. Kuroo gave Akaashi an affronted look.

Akaashi simply set down the plates he had been holding and crossed his arms, trying to stare the taller male down. It worked a little, if Kuroo’s slight slouch was anything to go by, the setter noted with satisfaction. He looked cowed enough.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing,” Akaashi said lowly, narrowing his eyes at Kuroo. “Don’t do it.”

Kuroo shrugged nonchalantly, confirming Akaashi’s suspicions, even as he said, “I was only saying sorry to Sawamura for pissing off one of his players.”

“Kuroo-san.”

“Really, Akaashi,” Kuroo gave him one of his usual smirks, and barely flinched when Akaashi’s eyes narrowed even more. “I just learnt a few more things about Glasses-kun as well, that’s all.”

Then whatever he was thinking about also involved the first-year. That couldn’t end well.

“ _Kuroo-san._ ”

“Would you look at that, they’re starting soon. Come along, Akaashi-kun— _ow!_ ”

“Sorry, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said with a straight face, ignoring the glare Kuroo shot at him as he rubbed his sore calf. Akaashi picked up the stack of plates again and lifted them slightly to punctuate his, “I’m helping the managers to clean up first.”

“That was uncalled for,” Kuroo called out after him indignantly.

“That was for the stupid thing you’re probably about to do,” Akaashi said over his shoulder.

“You’re a prick,” Kuroo called again.

  
—

  
The blond first-year (Tsukishima, Akaashi learnt soon enough), was crazy enough to show up again that evening, despite having expressed his contempt for their free practice. It was enough to elicit a slightly surprised, “Oho?” from Akaashi when he saw the tall player by the door, which seemed to trigger Bokuto and Kuroo into gathering around with their shit-eating grins, echoing Akaashi’s remark.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you,” Tsukishima said, and Akaashi composed an eulogy in his head. “May I?”

“Sure!” Bokuto and Kuroo said immediately, their stupid grins unrelenting.

Akaashi had to work to stop himself from hitting his forehead.

  
—

  
He didn’t really know what Tsukishima was expecting.

The first-year had only asked what drove them to try so hard in volleyball, to which Bokuto had answered in his own vaguely inspiring Bokuto-like manner. It hadn’t even been ten minutes before the two captains had dragged him back into jumping blocks with them again, and Tsukishima’s usual long-suffering expression made its return.

Akaashi wondered if Tsukishima had found whatever he was trying to find, and if it was worth the trouble.

The Karasuno first-year seemed to try harder the next day though, even managing to scare Bokuto into hitting a feint at one point. Despite the unmotivated aura he’d given off since the beginning of the training camp, he appeared rather driven now. Akaashi supposed that for Bokuto and Kuroo, managing to motivate somebody who had been so unenthusiastic about volleyball would be considered an achievement.

Tsukishima returned that night too, and Akaashi was very tempted to ask if he were insane.

Hinata showed up not long after, peering at them from behind the door, which Bokuto had quickly noticed and pointed out. Akaashi felt like he could see Kuroo’s expression sour a little when his eyes fell on the tiny middle-blocker, and even more so when the first-year explained that the person he usually practiced with had decided to practice on his own, and he had only sought them out after Kenma had refused to toss to him after the fifth one.

“It’s amazing that you got Kenma to even give you five during practice,” Kuroo said with a tight smile, and while Akaashi agreed, he immediately grew more wary of what Kuroo was thinking.

“So,” Hinata said, hardly acknowledging Kuroo’s comment. “Let me practice with you!”

Haiba’s head stuck in through the other side of the door at the same time, requesting the same thing. The two first-years glanced at each other, seemingly surprised.

“Kill me now,” Akaashi muttered to himself. 

  
—

  
Akaashi was sitting with Kenma at breakfast the next morning, having what seemed like his first proper conversation with the other setter since the beginning of the week-long camp. They’d risen reasonably early despite their mutual hatred for mornings— Akaashi because of some obscure duties he had as a vice-captain, and Kenma because there was a sort of event for one of his recently acquired games.

Kenma had long since completed the event, and was prodding at his bowl of rice as he spoke, “Shouyou seemed to have some issues with his setter yesterday.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow and lifted a hand to cover his mouth as he chewed. “Hasn’t that been the case for most of the training camp?”

“Mmm,” Kenma nodded, hair almost brushing the barely-touched food on his plate. “But they weren’t practicing together yesterday. He asked me for some tosses, then ran off when I managed to escape.”

“Ah,” Akaashi swallowed his mouthful of food and set down his chopsticks. “I know. He and Haiba-kun joined us for free practice.”

Kenma looked somewhat surprised, and Akaashi wondered how he didn’t know yet. “You mean you and—”

“Kenma~,” Kuroo sang, setting his plate down from across the two setters. “You’ve barely touched your food!”

Kenma looked up at the new arrival, squinting at him in what seemed to be an accusatory manner. “You didn’t tell me that Shouyou was practicing with you guys yesterday.”

“Eh? I would’ve thought Shrimpy himself would have told you by now. Or Lev. You seem to be around those two more often now anyway,” Kuroo said absent-mindedly, dropping into his chair with a loud sigh. Akaashi didn’t miss the slight twitch in Kuroo’s brow at the mention of Hinata. He had a feeling Kuroo was about to do that stupid thing Akaashi had kicked him for before.

“Did you have a good rest, Kuroo-san?” Akaashi asked in a polite tone. He turned his face away from Kenma’s line of sight so he could take a sip of his water and give Kuroo a warning glare over the rim of the glass. “It must have been very tiring, having to compete with us in a three-on-three match when you were up against Hinata-kun.”

Kenma glanced between them, sensing the palpable tension at the table, and looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Well, I was lucky I had Tsukki on my team then,” Kuroo replied without missing a beat, grinning. “He’s rather good at blocking, so I might just pull him into more practices with us later. I’ll have to see how it goes first.”

Kuroo’s eyes flickered to Kenma at the final statement, looking as if he were searching for a sort of reaction. Kenma had only ducked his head down and shuffled his food around some more, and Kuroo’s grin faltered at the bland reaction. So that’s what he was playing at, Akaashi thought.

“He’s okay,” Akaashi said, almost losing his usual polite tone to the edge that was creeping up in his voice. “Not exactly the first option I would choose.”

Kuroo’s eyes flickered to Akaashi, and the setter mouthed an irate, _don’t you dare_ at him.

“Ah well,” Kuroo said, his grin now looking more like a grimace. “That’s my own judgement.”

Akaashi scowled, almost telling the middle blocker just how much he thought his judgement sucked, but simply settled for a, “Perhaps so.”

“Glad you agree,” Kuroo stretched his arms back with a groan, which Akaashi attributed to the lengthy practice session they had the night before, which had only ended when the Fukurodani managers had informed them the cafeteria was closing soon. Kuroo yawned and gestured to Kenma’s plate, apparently deciding not to say any more to Akaashi. “Kenma, eat something! You can’t go around playing volleyball all day when you’ve barely eaten or slept.”

Kenma made a non-committal noise, but picked up some food and shovelled it into his mouth, still looking somewhat uncomfortable. Akaashi followed his example, eyes still locked on Kuroo’s in an unrelenting glare.

The middle blocker seemed to cower a bit, standing up when Bokuto skipped into the cafeteria with a bright greeting for everybody. Kuroo declared that he would be right back, before running to Bokuto, yelling a greeting back at him.

Kenma was silent beside him for a second, having gone back to pushing his food around the plate. He seemed rather deep in thought as he murmured, “Tsukki . . .”

Akaashi looked over at him tiredly. “Kozume-san?”

“That’s Tsukishima, right?” Kenma asked, face unreadable. “The blond first-year?”

Akaashi involuntarily fiddled with his fingers, hiding them under the table. “Yes.”

“Shouyou says he doesn’t let anybody call him that nickname except for his boyfriend,” Kenma mumbled, face scrunching up the tiniest bit. _Boyfriend?_ “So why does Kuro—”

“Bokuto-san does the same thing,” Akaashi said quickly, trying to appease the other setter. He cursed Kuroo in his head. “I’m fairly sure they only do it to annoy him.”

It was miniscule, but Kenma’s shoulders seemed to relax. “Oh.”

Well, Akaashi thought, Kuroo definitely got the reaction he wanted out of Kenma.

  
—

  
“Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo whirled around, almost spitting out his water at the sight of Akaashi standing behind him, arms crossed and face impassive.

“Kuroo, bro,” Bokuto stood beside the setter, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why would you even—”

Kuroo winced, and hurriedly cut in, “Okay, look—”

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi interrupted him harshly, stepping forward. “Do you recall what I explicitly told you not to do?”

“You just told me not to do what I was thinking of doing—”

“And what did you just do?”

“Okay,” Kuroo stepped back, hands up in what was supposed to be a placating gesture. “To be fair, I didn’t really do what I was thinking of doing.”

Akaashi cocked an eyebrow.

“Like, not even close,” Kuroo continued, gesturing wildly. “I was considering actually doing something in front of him and more, uh, physical—”

“And you better be glad you didn’t,” Akaashi hissed. “Especially if it involves Tsukishima-kun.”

Kuroo heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing his hands up angrily. “Why does it even matter? It’s not like Kenma even got mad or anything!”

Akaashi could see Bokuto’s eyes darting to him, unsure. The setter placed a hand on his arm, trying to convey that he knew what he was doing, while narrowing his eyes at Kuroo.

“Consider this,” Akaashi said, an edge to his voice, recalling the brief conversation he'd had with the two Karasuno first-years after breakfast. “Tsukishima-kun and Yamaguchi-kun are romantically involved. Even if Kozume-san wasn’t affected, there are people who definitely would be.”

Kuroo blinked.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, then dropped his hands to his sides in defeat. “Right, I didn’t even think about any of that. I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

Bokuto beamed, patting Kuroo on the shoulder and appearing to forgive him all too quickly. “You should just talk to Kenma, y’know! Stop over-complicating things with your weird jealousy shit!”

“Whatever,” Kuroo grumbled, then looked as if something had just occurred to him. “Wait, how did you even know that Tsukki and the Freckles guy were together?”

“We talked to them,” Akaashi said flatly. “Something you should consider doing with Kozume-san one day.”

  
—

  
Tsukishima, Hinata, and Haiba returned again that evening for more three-on-three matches before they had to leave the next day, and Akaashi was somewhat glad to see the wide-eyed look Kuroo had thrown his way before acting normally in front of the three first-years. At least, as much as one could consider ‘normal’ from somebody like Kuroo Tetsurou.

The last free practice session of the training camp was entirely dedicated to their little sets, still in the same teams as the night before, ridiculous height imbalance and all.

(So maybe Akaashi was still a little miffed about it.)

Bokuto had essentially taken Hinata on as a protégé at one point, teaching him numerous tips and techniques that Akaashi was sure he would regret doing later.

Hinata himself tended to fuel Bokuto’s ego with every little thing the third-year did, which eventually prompted Kuroo to make a snide comment about the very action. He didn’t seem to dislike the short first-year as much though, Akaashi noticed, and actually appeared to be warming up to Hinata. Perhaps it was because of the same bright, hard-to-dislike energy the first-year shared with Bokuto.

It hadn’t been so bad, Akaashi thought as he stepped out of the gym, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand and being tugged along with Bokuto by his other. At least they had fun.

  
—

  
Akaashi felt like the training camp ended on a rather good note.

Fukurodani had managed to scrape a win in their final match against Karasuno, who had improved as a team terrifyingly quickly throughout the week, and had once again come out on top as the team with the most wins.

There was also the fact that the coaches were treating them to a barbecue.

Akaashi was walking around for most of it, snatching a piece of meat here and there, and making the most of the remaining time they had left of the training camp.

He made idle conversation with some of the first years from the other schools, and exchanged numbers with a first year setter from Shinzen, as well as several of the Karasuno players, including a sleepy-eyed second-year who had taken an interest in him for his hobby with a camera.

Their managers were quite nice too— the small blonde one had squeaked out a greeting and scampered off when Akaashi had said hi to her, but he rather liked talking to the third-year one, who had Yamamoto and the two loud second-years from Karasuno trailing behind and trying to intimidate anyone who looked like they wanted to talk to her. He’d seen them scare off Konoha and Komi at one point, to his amusement, and made sure to remember it for times he needed blackmail. The trio of second-years were more apprehensive when they saw that it was Akaashi conversing with their beloved manager however, and Akaashi simply attributed it to Yamamoto’s doing, who had probably informed them of how wildly gay the setter was.

They did seem rather indignant when Akaashi exchanged numbers with Kiyoko, but he would deal with the retributions later.

  
—

  
It was bordering on evening when they more or less finished all the food that was available, the sunny afternoon sky beginning to give way to the faint wisps of dusky orange that came with sundown.

Kenma had found himself an empty stretch of grass to sit on, and Akaashi joined him after his impromptu eating contest with half of the Fukurodani team (alongside numerous members of the other teams).

“Who won?” Kenma had asked when Akaashi flopped onto the grass beside him, visibly exhausted.

“Shirofuku-san,” Akaashi had grumbled. “We were finding out who could eat the most onigiri in ten minutes, and she had two more than I did.”

“And what about the others?”

Akaashi scoffed, “If only they had half of Shirofuku-san’s appetite. Then they might actually come anywhere near close to touching us.”

“Still leagues ahead then.”

“I think Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun managed to pull ahead of Bokuto-san at one point, but I’m not sure.”

“Sometimes I worry for your digestive health,” Kenma muttered, then proceeded to lie on his back beside Akaashi, who snorted softly but didn’t say much else.

There was a comfortable stretch of silence, filled with the sounds of rambunctious teenage boys and birds and rustling leaves.

“Keiji?” Kenma’s voice was soft, unsure.

“Hmm?”

“Do you . . .” Kenma paused, and Akaashi could see one of his eyebrows twitch from where he lay. “Do you know if Kuro likes Tsukishima?”

Akaashi immediately had a strong urge to get up and strangle Kuroo. What the hell had he done this time?

“He doesn’t,” Akaashi said firmly. “You know that Tsukishima-kun and Yamaguchi-kun are dating, in any case. Why do you ask?”

Akaashi saw Kenma shrug a little out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know, it just seems like he’s paying more attention to Tsukishima now. And even if Tsukishima is dating someone, it doesn’t mean Kuro can’t be interested in him.”

“True,” Akaashi hummed, mind working quickly to come up with something to say without being overly-overt about Kuroo’s feelings. He supposed he could simply tell Kenma, but he had to agree with Bokuto when he’d suggested to let the two work it out themselves. He let out a discrete sigh. “But what makes you think so?”

Kenma shrugged again. “He’s spent more time with Tsukishima this whole week.”

“That’s partly because you were with Hinata-kun most of the time,” Akaashi said mildly.

“Yeah,” Kenma said, then let out a sigh. “But that’s not all.”

Oh dear.

“During the barbecue, I was sitting beside Tsukishima, and his captain came up to him and told him to eat more, then Kuro came up with food and started bugging him too,” Kenma recounted, eyebrows scrunching up. “He tried to get me to eat as well, but I don’t think he even realised I was there at first.”

“That’s unlikely,” Akaashi muttered, just loud enough for Kenma to hear him. He heard Kenma huff, and frowned. “I wasn’t kidding, Kozume-san. I doubt that Kuroo-san only addressed you later simply because he likes Tsukishima-kun, or didn’t notice you were there. He did say something to you, didn’t he?”

“I guess,” Kenma said quietly, hardly sounding like he was convinced. “But he hasn’t really talked to me today.”

Akaashi knew that Kenma tended to overthink things much of the time, and supposed he couldn’t really be blamed for it. But Akaashi couldn’t help but let out a long sigh at how complicated Kuroo and Kenma were making the situation. It was enough for Kenma to turn his head towards him, looking mildly worried.

“Sorry,” Kenma muttered, and appeared to shrink into himself a little.

Akaashi shook his head when he realised what Kenma might have taken the action as, tapping his arm to get his attention.

“It’s no problem for me at all,” he said softly, then went back to staring at the sky, a mild feeling of frustration brewing in him. “The two of you should really just talk to each other.”

  
—

  
The two of them did not, as a matter of fact, talk to each other. And it was very frustrating.

Akaashi had come to this conclusion after a week of watching Kenma jump onto his phone and act occupied whenever Kuroo was in the immediate vicinity, and Kuroo acting similarly.

Frankly, Akaashi felt like he would be less frustrated by this if it weren't for the fact that every time Kenma was on his phone to avoid Kuroo, he was almost always texting Akaashi about his crisis. And all Kuroo decided to do about their situation was look at Kenma with an expression that conveyed just how much he wanted to talk to the setter, but tried to do virtually anything else instead of actually _talking to him_.

It was ridiculous.

“They’ve only gotten worse,” Kai said to Akaashi with a grimace when the setter had visited Nekoma one afternoon, alongside Bokuto.

“I can see that,” Akaashi said, eyebrows furrowed as he surveyed the scene he had just walked into.

Kenma was in one corner, sitting in against the wall, knees up, as he tapped away at his phone and tried his best to ignore Yamamoto, who was attempting to pull him into some warm-up exercises. He had barely looked up when Akaashi and Bokuto had entered the gym, the latter immediately having run to Kuroo with a scream of excitement. Kuroo had glanced over at Kenma at least six times in the three or so minutes they’d been there.

“What happened to playing matchmaker?” Kai asked, upon seeing the look on Akaashi’s face.

Akaashi huffed out a frustrated breath as he answered, “We’d just suggested for them to talk to each other, but it doesn’t look like they’ve done much talking.”

“Ah,” Kai nodded solemnly, then gave Akaashi a slight squinty-eyed look. “I honestly thought you guys would go for something a little more, uh, direct.”

“Well,” Akaashi said, absentmindedly tugging at his fingers as he retired into his mind to formulate a plan. “Bokuto-san suggested we let allow them to sort out their feelings in their own time, and I didn’t disagree. But with the two of them acting like this, I’m quite sure we’ll need to do something more direct anyway.”

“You have a look on your face that I want to trust, but I’m not sure if I can,” Kai shot Akaashi a worried look, to which Akaashi responded with a slight smirk.

“You won’t have to worry, Kai-san,” he said. “You’ll have your captain and setter back soon.”

“I hope so. Spring High Prelims aren’t very far away.”

“Ah, that’s true.”

  
—

  
“Kuroooo, bro,” Akaashi watched disinterestedly as Bokuto whined into the middle blocker’s ear, both of them pacing up and down the length of Nekoma’s gym with increasing speed. “Jump some blocks for me _please_?”

“I should’ve known you were here for extra practice!” Kuroo shouted at the ceiling, still speed-walking away from Bokuto, three volleyballs cradled in his arms. “Every time! This happens every time!”

The rest of the Nekoma team was being more efficient in cleaning up, most of the members shooting wary looks at the two captains. The nets had been taken down with frightening speed, Akaashi had noticed, and half of the team had already filed out of the gym without a second glance.

“Bro, please—”

“There aren’t even any nets up now, Bo!”

“That doesn’t matter!” Bokuto insisted. “Being able to visualise is important too!”

“What the _fuck_ , bro—”

Akaashi let out a long-suffering sigh and sat down beside Kenma, who was on his phone yet again, apparently talking to Hinata. Kenma seemed to startle a little, eyes flicking towards the taller setter before looking back at his phone.

“Keiji.”

Akaashi nodded at him. “Kozume-san.”

“Don’t think I didn’t just see you gesture for everybody else to go away,” he said flatly, shooting Akaashi a suspicious look.

Akaashi only smiled, and internally apologised for what he was about to do. “You wouldn’t want them around for what we’re about to do, I’m afraid.”

Kenma’s head shot up at that, eyes narrowing when he saw Bokuto begin to drag Kuroo over to where they were sitting, to the middle blocker’s dismay. He looked back at Akaashi, scowling. “I’m leaving.”

“Kozume-san, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said before Kenma could even try to stand up. He clasped his hands in his lap, tilting his head in an innocuous manner. “I believe there are matters you have to discuss.”

Both of them shot Akaashi a withering glare. He smiled at them humourlessly.

“But we should really ensure that this misunderstanding is properly cleared up, shouldn’t we, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto beamed at them, looking all too innocent for somebody who was almost crushing a taller man in his arms. “Yeah! Kenma!”

Kenma looked at Bokuto and Akaashi warily, but nodded at Bokuto’s address at him. Kuroo looked equally as dubious.

“Kuroo doesn’t even like Tsukki that way!” Bokuto went straight to the point, to Kuroo’s horror. The wing spiker lightly whacked him across the back of his head with a slight smirk in his grin. “He was just being a big, jealous baby because you were spending more time with Hinata, or opened up to him faster, or something.”

Kuroo shot him a look of betrayal, and Bokuto let him go so he could give him a pat on the shoulder and a thumbs up. Kuroo just looked as if he were about to murder both Bokuto and Akaashi, and opened his mouth to say something, eye twitching.

“Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said before he could, ignoring the wide-eyed stare Kenma was wearing. “Kozume-san does not have any intention to date Hinata-kun, for one thing. Hinata-kun is already dating Kageyama-kun.”

Kuroo’s face went blank. “What—”

“Keiji, _no_ ,” Kenma hissed at him, apparently coming back to his senses.

“Your ridiculous jealousy games seemed to have actually worked, unfortunately,” Akaashi continued, and Kenma made a sound of outrage. “Even if you were really only trying to do it the one time. Kenma misses you as much as you miss him, I believe.”

There was a beat of silence as they all stared at each other, Kuroo and Kenma looking like they were unsure where to look.

_I’m so sorry_ , Akaashi tried to convey to them silently with an impassive face.

He let out a soft sigh when it became obvious that neither of them were going to say anything, standing up. “I’m hoping the two of you are getting my message. Please do try to talk about this, Kuroo-san, Kozume-san.”

“I—” Kuroo choked out, still looking rather dumbstruck. “Wait.”

Bokuto gave him another pat on the shoulder, and both of them an encouraging grin. “We’ll leave you guys to it!”

  
—

  
“Are they making up now?” Yamamoto whispered loudly, as Bokuto and Akaashi stepped out of the gym. Kai, Yaku, and Fukunaga were standing around with him, looking just as curious as Yamamoto was.

Both of the Fukurodani members shrugged, Bokuto’s punctuated with a, “Dunno!”

“We hope so, at least,” Akaashi said tiredly, discretely tugging on Bokuto’s arm. Bokuto slung the same arm around the setter’s shoulders as he asked the four, “Did you hear any of the previous conversation?

Yaku, Kai, and Fukunaga shook their heads, and Yamamoto only stood around looking nervous as the vice-captain replied, “We were out here the whole time.”

Yamamoto nodded, albeit a little hastily. “You told us to leave, right? For some privacy? We would never intrude on your privacy.”

Yaku looked a little disturbed. “Why do you look so scared?”

“I’m not scared!”

“Well,” Akaashi interrupted, checking his phone for the time. “It’s getting rather late, and they might take a while. I would suggest either going home, or at least somewhere where we wouldn’t be loitering.”

“Oh, true.”

“Shit,” Yamamoto said, to Yaku’s disapproval. “My parents won’t let me stay out so late, so I have to go.”

“Same here,” Fukunaga said, flashing a text from what appeared to be his mother at the others.

“We’ll walk with you guys to the gate, then,” Yaku said, then looked over to Akaashi, who was all too comfortable in his position tucked under Bokuto’s arm. “You don’t have a curfew, Akaashi?”

Akaashi shook his head, shuffling closer to Bokuto. “I often stay out late anyway. Nobody would mind.”

“Great,” Yaku said again, clapping his hands together. “We can go to our team’s usual ramen place for now— sorry Yamamoto, Fukunaga.”

“How dare you!” Yamamoto shouted, looking as if he were about to burst into tears at the prospect of missing out on ramen. Fukunaga just looked affronted.

Bokuto yelled in excitement.

  
—

  
Akaashi was almost finished with his bowl of ramen when his phone chimed.

‘ _i hate you_ ’ was the only thing Kenma had bothered to send him, and Akaashi had to remind himself that he didn’t even know how their talk went. He was assuming (hoping) that it had been successful, though.

He gave the other three a brief glance at the text before excusing himself, getting out of his seat so he could stand in a quieter part of the store. He called Kenma.

“You’re the worst,” Kenma said as soon as he picked up. Akaashi could hear the faint sound of what he thought to be Kuroo screeching, and couldn’t help the smirk that twisted his lips. “I hate you.”

“If it’s any consolation, I am sincerely sorry about it,” Akaashi could hear amusement colour his tone, and he was quite sure Kenma didn’t believe him. “How did it go, anyway?”

“Probably as well as you wanted it to go,” Kenma grumbled, and was promptly interrupted by loud rustling, followed by a noise of protest.

“FUCK YOU, AKAASHI,” Kuroo yelled through the phone, and Akaashi internally laughed at him. “FUCK YOU AND YOUR GLORIOUS, SHITTING BRAIN. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS?”

“Yaku-san and Kai-san brought me and Bokuto-san to your team’s usual ramen place,” Akaashi said, eyes flickering over to the three aforementioned people, who looked at him at the mention of their names.

“Those traitors,” Kuroo hissed, and promptly hung up.

Akaashi made his way back to his seat, laughing a little at the other three’s curious expressions as he sat down.

“They’ll be joining us soon,” he said simply, prodding at his almost-empty bowl as he shot them a pleased smile. “I think it went quite well.”

  
—

  
Kuroo had dragged Kenma into the store just as a second bowl of ramen had been set down in front of Bokuto.

“You’re an asshole,” Kuroo loudly declared, taking a seat beside Bokuto, who squawked at the statement. Akaashi was about to inform his boyfriend that Kuroo hadn’t been talking to him, when the middle blocker pointed at Akaashi from the other side of Bokuto and said, “And you are the greatest shit-stained asshole I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I hate you.”

Well, he was definitely addressing Bokuto first, then.

“Language, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi mumbled through a mouthful of ramen, hardly giving him a glance.

“Oh, sorry, did you want me to say that in English?”

“I think some people in here would rather you say nothing at all,” Akaashi said, gesturing to the shopkeeper, who was giving Kuroo a hard glare.

Kuroo bowed his head a little, muttering a quick _sorry_ to the man.

“Hey now, Kuroo,” Yaku said sternly. “You should really be thanking Akaashi for actually getting you guys to make up. Who knows how long you two would spend trying to ignore each other.”

Kuroo snorted. “By literally getting his boyfriend to hold me down, then telling each other the deep, dark insecurities that we’ve been hiding instead of just letting us find out from each other like any normal pair of people would do? Yeah, fantastic.”

Yaku turned to Akaashi with wide eyes. “Akaashi, you what?”

“Extortion proved to be a very efficient and direct method,” Akaashi muttered into his bowl of noodles. He could see Kuroo scowl at him from the corner of his eye. “Was it direct enough for you, Kai-san?”

Kai cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I think that was probably the most direct thing you could do.”

Akaashi nodded and turned his attention to his ramen again, shovelling more in his mouth.

“I think I understand why Yamamoto is so terrified of him now,” Yaku said to nobody in particular, looking slightly awed.

”And _you!_ ” Kuroo jabbed a finger accusingly at Yaku and Kai. “You left me alone with this sadist!”

”There were four of us there,” Kenma muttered.

”That doesn’t matter!”

Yaku snorted, turning to Kuroo, who had donned a childish pout. “Why are you so upset? Didn’t you guys sort things out?”

“Kuro just didn’t like being outed like that,” Kenma said, typing away on his phone. “But otherwise, yes, we sorted things out.”

“I blame Akaashi for all my life problems,” Kuroo said melodramatically, making sweeping gestures with his arms and almost smacking Bokuto’s head into his bowl.

“You only have yourself to blame for your atrocious hair, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said through a mouthful of food, watching Bokuto and Yaku stifle a laugh when Kuroo pulled a face.

“Okay, fuck you.”

  
—

  
“You never did tell us if you were romantically involved now,” Akaashi commented to Kenma as they walked along at a leisurely pace. Bokuto and Kuroo were walking ahead, looking like they were very deep in conversation, as the two Nekoma players escorted them to the train station, the other two already having gone home.

Kenma hummed, an eyebrow quirking. “I wouldn’t say we are. Not really.”

“Oh?”

“We . . . We yelled at each other a bit,” Kenma admitted, fingers fiddling with his phone. “So we weren’t going to be all cuddly immediately after that.”

“You seemed rather cuddly from where I was watching,” Akaashi said, giving Kenma an amused look. “But I understand, I suppose.”

Kenma let out a soft snort. “We just decided to let things run a little slower. I’m not like you, Keiji.”

“Oh yes,” Akaashi nodded sagely. “I got a boyfriend after about three months of knowing him. I’d moved so quickly, hadn’t I? Maybe I should have waited for ten years too.”

Kenma looked rather unimpressed. “I don’t need this right now, Keiji.”

“I’m kidding,” Akaashi hid a smile. “The pace you want to set is your choice. I’m just glad you two figured it out.”

“And whose fault was that?”

“It worked didn’t it?” Akaashi huffed. “What happened after, anyway? Kuroo may have very questionable behaviour, but he had a reason for screeching so loudly that your phone could pick it up.”

“Oh,” Kenma’s flushed a little, and Akaashi was immediately very interested. “We agreed to take it slow, but I still kissed him.”

“Oho?”

“It was just a peck on the lips.”

“Sure it was.”

“ _Keiji._ ”

Up ahead, Akaashi could hear Bokuto screaming in delight, Kuroo trying his best to silence him, and he figured that Kuroo had shared that same detail with Bokuto as well. Akaashi couldn’t help the slight, genuine smile that curled at his lips.

“Well, I’m really glad for you two,” he said, head facing the night sky.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this turned out a lot longer than i expected, and also didn't appear with the same spacing as the previous chapter when i pasted it into the lovely little textbox, so hah. that was hell to format.
> 
> i don't know why i made akaashi so ooc near the end, but eating noodles late at night and on the verge of passing out? me when i was formatting this stupid thing. in any case, that's probably most of his personality in this series but summed up in about eleven words and expressed externally, so,
> 
> (what have i done to him)
> 
> also, a huge thank you for the people who took the time to bless me with their beautiful comments on both this fic and the previous one, you guys have no idea how much they made my day omg
> 
> and again, kudos and comments are very welcomed, and thank you to anyone who even made it this far. i hope you've all enjoyed!


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